


In With The New

by VotreDéfaite (Callmefandom)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossdressing, Everyone Loves Bitty, Feminine Bitty, Guard Jack, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmefandom/pseuds/VotreD%C3%A9faite
Summary: He has a feeling in his gut, nothing he’s ever felt before. He assumes it’s his instincts telling him something is off- that something isn’t right.Shitty is probably somewhere getting into trouble, probably fucking s’wasted…Jack thinks.He’s suddenly reminded of the new traveler from the South.And he wonders...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up: this work does take place in an alternate universe, and because of that some characters' personalities do slightly differ- they haven't had the same experiences in this world as they have had in canon 
> 
> Please do not post this work on Goodreads or any other site, thanks!

There's something different in the air at Sam's Well, Jack could feel it as soon as he arrived, like a shock of electricity crawling under his skin. 

It made his nose twitch. 

Jack and his crew had only just returned from fighting some northern border skirmishes when he’d received word that a traveler from one of the southern villages had decided to settle in the town of Sam’s Well.

He was surprised when he heard _how_ far south the newcomer had traveled from. When the next thing out of his informant’s mouth was how _gorgeous_ and _kind_ he was?

 

Jack was instantly suspicious.

 

__________________________________________________________

 

“Hey! Zimmermann, get the fuck over here man!” Shitty calls to him across the warm, bustling tavern, his words slurring ever so slightly, “We need to celebrate our homecoming! Drink something!”

Jack weaves his way through the tables full of people, frothy beer sloshing on the floor, little amber drops catching on his boots. Most of the brave guardsmen he captained were drinking that night, the village in a joyful uproar at having their fearless soldiers returned home.

“Where’s your drink? Just ‘cuz you’re cap doesn’t mean you can’t relax bro!” Holster tells him as Jack crams into the sticky pub booth, before being slid a mug of beer from a grinning Ransom.

“Come on cap, drink up!” Ransom cheers before standing, raising his full mug to the ceiling and addressing the room of revelers.

“A toast to our brave Captain Zimmermann!” Ransom bellows, “For bringing your men back safe, and protecting the lives at Sam’s Well!”

“HEAR HEAR!” the people in the pub call back, swinging their mugs up in respect.

A pink blush has been creeping onto Jack’s cheeks for a little while now, but he tries hides it from view by placing a hand over his small, smiling mouth.

“ _Ransom_ ,” he hisses, “ _Sit. Down._ ”

“Yeah, yeah Cap,” Ransom chuckles as he settles back into his seat, throwing an arm over the back of the booth, “Nobody noticed that you felt,” - he clutches his chest here for dramatic effect, voice going high and fluttery- “ _Emotions!_ ”

Ransom turns to Holster, fluttering his eyelashes comically, and they pretend to swoon for a moment before bursting into laughter. Jack’s lip quirks up a little, before becoming stern once more. He surveys the people in the bar, disconnected from the live wire of elation that’s filling the village.

He has a feeling in his gut, nothing he’s ever felt before. He assumes it’s his instincts telling him something is off- that something isn’t right.

 _Shitty is probably somewhere getting into trouble, probably fucking s’wasted…_ Jack thinks.

 

He’s suddenly reminded of that new traveler from the South.

And he wonders...

 

__________________________________________________________

 

That night the cobblestone square in the center of town was alight, a crackling bonfire lit, throwing shadows on the villagers dancing merrily to the rousing drumbeat. Dancers moved sensually, capturing the eyes of returned guards, who grabbed their swaying waists with battle-worn hands. The music from the square spilled into the tavern, and patrons swung their beer-mugs high above their heads, laughing and singing and rejoicing together.

Jack watched from his booth as his friends sang sloppily, drink spraying from their mouths as they laughed together at their antics.

Jack chuckled right along with them.

As the night grew darker, they stumbled out into the streets, stumbling over each other on their way to the Patrol Haus at the edge of town, near the market.

“What in the fucking hell is _that!?_ ”

Jack looks up from his feet, following the pointed line of Ransom’s finger. His eyes trailing up to a wooden sign hanging above them, advertising _Bun’s Bakery_ and huh- they hadn’t been gone _that_ long had they?  _When did someone open a bakery?_

“Bro! _Bro._ That’s some motherfuckin’ _pies_ in the window!” Holster shrieks.

Jack looks down to find Ransom, Holster, and Shitty pressing their noses into the glass of the shop, salivating over the, honestly _delicious_ , looking pecan pies and other goods on display.

Beyond the display window Jack can barely make out some tables and chairs, a register and some stairs leading to the apartment above.

The lights in the bakery were mostly dimmed, but when Jack tilts his head he can see a warm, golden glow illuminating the curtained apartment window above the shop. As he watches, a lithe silhouette from behind the curtain steps into the light, seemingly clutching a robe around their thin shoulders.

So Jack just stands there, in the middle of the street, eyes glazed and jaw dropped.

The figure releases the fabric of the robe, letting it slip down to the crooks of their elbows. Jack watches as a hand raises in the light, revealing thin wrists and small hands, dainty hands, _How much bigger are my hands? Would they fit well together how would they lo-_

“Jaack!” Shitty moans piteously, interrupting Jack’s thoughts and bringing his gaze down from the window.

 

_What?_

 

Jack shakes his head harshly, “What is it Shits?”

“ _Jaaack!_ ” Shitty moans again, “I’m fucking smashed dude, and now I want treat-” - he hiccuped - “ _treaties_ ! But the bakery is _closed_ and it’s the worst thing in the world and I just want to smash my face into all the goo _ooods_!”.

As soon as Jack sees Ransom and Holster nodding from their place at the display window, he knows it’s time to go home. He walks over to Shitty, and quickly throws him over his shoulder, feeling him land with an - _oomf_!

And then Shitty passes out, all deadweight on Jack’s back. _At least he’s not yelling at me about that fucking bakery_ , Jack thinks. He starts walking down the street. _Goddamit_.

“Hey! Ransom! Holster!” Jack yells over his shoulder, and he can see their heads whip towards him, cheeks now pressed to the shop window.

He beckons his head in the direction of the Patrol Haus, and eventually his guardsmen peel themselves away from the little bakery, leaving smudges from fingers and foreheads on the window.

 

__________________________________________________________

 

He doesn’t remember his bed feeling this soft before he left for the mission. It feels like he’s laying on feathers, his mattress such a stark contrast compared to the hard packed dirt he’d napped on for the last few weeks. A cool breeze drifts in from his open window, carrying the smell of burned wood from the bonfire. He can hear the dredges of the party ending, and imagines the last of the revelers drifting and swaying through the streets, making their way back home.

He lays there, breathing in the cool night air, hands moving up and down his stomach lightly. They sometimes catch the fabric of his shirt, dragging it along with his strokes. He can feel a faint stirring in his groin. A buzz under his skin.  

Jack’s mind wanders back to the- _No, no no!_ \- figure in the window- _Fuck_.  Their arched back, slim shoulders leading down to delicate wrists. He can almost imagine them in his bed, small body under his.

He grips his cock through his pajamas, and he can feel it throb achingly in his hand. His precum has already started to leak in his underwear, and all he can think about is what that little body would feel like under his own.

 _They would gasp and writhe on my sheets,_ and Jack imagines smooth, tan skin, _ready for me to touch, to run my tongue down and mark them with bruises from my teeth…_

Jack starts rutting into his mattress, cock still confined in his underwear he craves the soft friction of the sheets below him. He dips his hand under the band of his boxers and draws out his dick. It’s spitting precum onto his hand, clear and wet and dripping obscenely onto his sheets.

 _I would trail my hands down their neck, their chest, their slim thighs that I could fuck into_ , his cock jerks up in his hand, veins pronounced and the head an angry red, Jack can feel a cool line of sweat running down and collecting in the small of his back.

He hasn’t gotten off in so long, never had the time to while on duty, but now, _now I would drag my tongue over their teeth, mix our tastes together as we suck each other’s tongues, I’d bite their lips just to see them swell, bet they have such beautiful cock-sucking li-_

“Nghh- _fuck_ ,” Jack groans, deep and low in his chest, and flips over onto his back.

He fists his cock carelessly, short fast strokes that burn just right. He fucks his hand imagining it's a sloppy, wet hole and it’s just enough to make his balls draw up tight, his furry asshole clenches just a bit as he shoots all over his hairy chest.

Jack falls back gasping, chest heaving with effort. He’s wet with sweat and precum and cum, and he knows he should clean himself up but he just doesn’t have the energy.

 _I’m going to be so mad at myself in the morning_ , he thinks. He drags his fingers through the sticky seed on his chest, feeling his eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

 

And then he dreams.

 

__________________________________________________________

 

When Bitty wakes up he just _knows_ that he slept in. He cracks his eyes open to see his room flooded with sunlight, his white cotton drapes being blown around his window. The faint hum of busy villagers drifts up into the room.  

He was supposed to wake up at sunrise.

“I’m late, God dangit!” Bitty flips his blankets over himself, scrambling to get the bakery ready to open downstairs. He doesn’t bother with his nightgown, just pulling a brush through his hair before rushing out to the stairwell.

As he clambers down the steps, eyes still a little glazed with sleep, the sound of a fist pounding on the bakery door reaches him.

 _Is it 9 o’clock already? I’d don’t even have my muffins in the oven!_ Bitty panics, _Maybe I should just ignore them, at least until I have something ready to s-_ the fist pounds against the wood again, interrupting his thoughts.

So he shuffles over to the door, feet warmed by the sun-drenched wood floors. Grabbing the handle, Bitty opens the door a crack before peaking his large doe eyes out.

“Hello,” the stern, _gorgeous_ man on his porch greets Bitty gravely, “I’m Captain Jack Zimmermann of the Sam’s Well Guard,” the man- _Jack_ scrutinizes Bitty with his sharp blue eyes, “And I need to ask you some questions.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic to be published for this fandom (but not the first fic I'm working on for omgcp!) - This is going to be multi-chaptered, but I'm still working on the outline, so the number of chapters is up in the air at the moment. Hopefully I'll be able to update this soon. 
> 
> All comments will be appreciated, printed out and hung in my foyer. 
> 
> My [tumblr](http://anthcny.tumblr.com)


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